


Not a spy, just a secret agent

by LaGemini



Series: Mycroft being genius [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Case Fic, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, genius mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaGemini/pseuds/LaGemini
Summary: Sherlock found out the past four killings are all connected to one person - Mark Taylor.He was dead, but his records were too bland to set off alarm bells in Sherlock. Sherlock tried to use a big brother chance, and found out more than he expected.Brief possible past of Mycroft :)
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Series: Mycroft being genius [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827256
Comments: 18
Kudos: 178





	Not a spy, just a secret agent

“…So this Mark Taylor is a key to all the murders that happened past two months. They all are connected to him somehow. Who is it?” Sherlock paced behind Greg’s desk and Donovan, who was entering the name into the system on Greg’s computer, scowled.

John ignored Sherlock’s ranting with practiced ease, Greg ignored him as well with a small sigh, and Anderson looked very much like he wants to say something.

But the computer soon showed the result. Everyone crowded in front of Greg’s monitor.

Mark Taylor, deceased.

There was other information shown on the screen as well, but Greg let out a frustrated sigh seeing the deceased state. They could still find Taylor’s acquaintances, but it will be harder for them without actual person. Especially when said man is dead for about fifteen years.

Others let out similarly frustrated sighs thinking the same, but Sherlock narrowed his eyes scrolling through the information.

Greg felt a spark of hope. “Is there any anomalies, Sherlock?” He asked hopefully.

“No.” Sherlock’s answer was disappointing, but John thought it odd that Sherlock was still reading the brief information with a frown. Sherlock would’ve read it more than twice by now, considering his usual speed.

“Then why are you looking at it like there’s something there, freak? We should find someone remembering him, at least, if you don’t mind.” Donovan’s words were dripping sarcasm at the end.

Sherlock didn’t heed her any attention, though. He read the information one more time. There’s nothing that stands out, but he just kept feeling as if there should. Which was the one thing that he truly despises. _Gut feeling_. Not being able to explain _why_.

All of the other occupants in Greg’s office watched Sherlock starting to pace once more. They shook their head and started to find Taylor’s associates. Sherlock will come back to the earth when he figures out something. They are too used to seeing him like that.

And he did. Sherlock stopped abruptly from his agitated pacing, and let out a loud, “OH!”

“What is it, Sherlock?” Greg refrained himself from rolling his eyes. He appreciates Sherlock’s helps and genius, but he could do with less drama, Greg thought.

“He is too plain.” Sherlock declared with glee as if it explains everything. And he soon resumed his usual pitying and disbelieving expression. “Oh, your brains-,” “Sherlock,” John interrupted firmly. Sherlock rolled his eyes. “As I said, he is too plain.”

“I don’t know, Sherlock. He has some impressive resume, even though he won’t be joining 27 club.” Greg said, puzzled, and it was true. Taylor must have had brilliant mind, according to his academic achievements.

Sherlock shot him a look, which Greg ignored. “Yes, degrees blah, blah, blah, papers, news articles, etc., but as I said, he’s too plain. Four victims over past two months had shadowy pasts. This Mark Taylor is too plain to be acquainted with those people without his own shadowy past. So, someone erased his past or Mark Taylor is an alias from the start.”

John felt his jaw slightly unhinging. Does that mean…

“Are you saying that this man was a spy?” Anderson voiced everyone’s thought.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. So much so that John’s doctor mind absently worried about the eyeballs falling out. “Secret government agent, more like. Not _spy_.” Sherlock said with clear distaste. John knows he dislikes people automatically thinking of James Bond if one hears the word spy.

Anderson was about to retort, but Greg cut in. “You’re saying then there’s high chance of every information we see is fake.” Greg asked with frustration. He thought they were about to go somewhere with the case.

Sherlock shrugged. “That’s where _big brother_ comes in. At least his overbearing nature has use on the cases like,” Sherlock’s words cut off with the phone call.

“DI Lestrade,” Greg answered the phone promptly, and his eyes widened slightly with surprise before he pushed a button to put the call on speaker.

“Sherlock,” It was Anthea. “Car will arrive within a minute in front of the yard. You are invited as well, Inspector, Dr. Watson, Sergeant Donovan, Sergeant Anderson.” Anthea declared without an ounce of doubt that they would refuse the summoning.

Sherlock scowled. “Wait. Where’s,”

Anthea cut him even before he finished his sentence. “He’s in the meeting.” With that, she ended the call.

There was a brief silence, and Donovan chuckled. “I like her.”

Sherlock scowled fiercely, but John and Greg had to agree with Donovan. Sherlock needs that kind of respond time to time. There should be someone that doesn’t cave in to him, contrary to Greg and John's usual tolerant attitudes.

Sherlock turned with a swirl and went out of the office without any further word. John was only a step behind him. Greg gestured Donovan and Anderson to follow, and followed Sherlock and John. He saw Donovan and Anderson scrambling to shut down the computer and follow them.

The car Anthea sent was large enough for the five of them to seat at the backseat. John and Greg slid in with practiced ease, but Donovan and Anderson obviously were cautious about the development.

Seeing the two being slightly awkward, John tried to think when was the last time Mycroft summoned them for the case. And with a bolt of realization, John realized that it was the first time. Mycroft of course called or summoned them sometimes to ask about the progress or hear the result, but it always involved the cases _he_ gave them. Even then, Mycroft usually came to 221B.

John turned to Greg with slight worry at that realization. “This is the first time he summoned us to somewhere during your case as far as I know. He usually comes himself. Was there any occasion before?”

Greg shook his head. “No. He sends people to take over the case if it’s his jurisdiction. Other than that, he usually comes by as you said.”

Donovan and Anderson seemed really wanting to ask what’s going on, but Sherlock scoffed first. “Oh, please, he’s calling us because the information regarding Mark Taylor is extremely sensitive, but it is not the case for secret service. Yet.”

The rest of the ride went in silence. Donovan and Anderson got a sense of what’s going on, and John and Greg could see that Sherlock was slightly disgruntled by the summoning. This must be first for Sherlock as well, they thought.

When they arrived and led to some conference room by the driver, there was no one in the room. However, as soon as they all sat down, Anthea came in. Still glued to her blackberry, typing away rapidly.

“Inspector, Dr. Watson, Sergeant Donovan, Sergeant Anderson. Sir will be in any moments. The traffic was lighter than I expected.” Anthea greeted, still not looking at them.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, scanning her from his petulant slouch on the seat. “You are clearing his schedule. Is this that important? Are you sure those two,” He shot a glance to Donovan and Anderson. “have enough clearance to be here?”

Before Donovan and Anderson could get indignant, even though they themselves were contemplating just that, Anthea answered coolly. “I wouldn’t have called them if they didn’t, would they? Sir will decide everything when he comes.”

Sherlock scowled, but before anything could be said, they heard voices from the corridor. Anthea stepped out smoothly and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

“Sir, your next appointment awaits.” They heard Anthea relaying the information in collected tone.

“Ah, thank you, Anthea. I am afraid but this one demands my attention, Prime Minister. Although I should say that I am sorry to cut our beneficial meeting short.”

The voice, Mycroft, said pleasantly to the other – PM, obviously – bidding him goodbye. In fact, the voice was so warm and pleasant that John thought he was hearing someone else for a moment. It must be fake, of course, but John felt slight chill at how sincere it sounds.

Then, they heard footsteps of Mycroft approaching and another walking away. “What has Sherlock done this time, Anthea? I thought my next meeting was with Lady Smallwood?” There was slight fatigue they could hear from the voice, but otherwise it was the tone they are used to hear. John felt slightly relieved, unexplicably. And it mustn’t have been the first time Mycroft found his meeting altered due to Sherlock.

Anthea didn’t answer that and just opened the door. The occupants and Mycroft laid their eyes on each other at the same time. The guests just stared at Mycroft not knowing what to do – except Sherlock, who were frowning slightly -, but there was slight surprise on Mycroft’s side as he noticed who were in the room.

“The name, Anthea?” Mycroft asked curtly, taking every information from them and knowing what this is about.

“Mark Taylor, sir.” Anthea answered dutifully, still typing something.

Sherlock didn’t miss the recognition he saw on Mycroft’s eyes. He narrowed his eyes.

Mycroft tilted his head slightly and hummed for a second. “I need a file, Anthea. I will be able to make it to the ambassador, so please cancel the meetings before then.”

Anthea nodded, already expected the orders except for the exact time the meeting will end, and went out without any further instructions.

“How many hours is that?” Sherlock asked.

“We have two and a half hours.” Mycroft replied while sitting down on the chair himself and crossed his legs.

Sherlock accepted the time without protest even though he wanted to. He knows Mycroft rarely makes wrong predictions. He narrowed his eyes. “So, Mark Taylor-,” Sherlock started, but Mycroft stopped him by raising his hand.

“I need to see the specifics to determine whether Mark Taylor is really involved. And,” Mycroft gave Sherlock his usual smile, which means it seemed wholly fake. “I know your deduction won’t be wrong, but you know I like assessing on my own. There’s also the fact that I have to determine the amount of information I have to give.”

Sherlock was visibly bristling, but didn’t say anything. He knows Mycroft is better at deducing things – though he would _never_ admit that out loud – and it’s Mycroft’s habit to check things on his own if it’s important enough. He is surrounded by goldfishes, after all.

Donovan was eyeing the man – Sherlock’s brother, if the rumors she heard were right – with mixture of defiance and admiration. She would like an explanation without censoring – even though she knows that’s impossible – and she could read quite a lot from Sherlock’s lack of response. He must be smarter than Sherlock. Which isn't an easy fit, even though she doesn't like to acknowledge it.

Greg and John were equally amazed by Sherlock’s tacit acceptance of Mycroft being smarter. It was not the first time for them, but it never gets old.

Soon enough, Anthea came back with a few manila folders. She went out again at Mycroft’s nod. She doesn’t need Mycroft’s detailed order to know what she has to do.

“I’m sorry for abrupt summoning. My agent is preparing your teas at the moment, so please give me a few moments to look over the files.” Mycroft said politely, but he was already opening the file without waiting for a response.

Mycroft was rapidly going through all four murders when there was a knock and new agent came in with a tea tray. Greg and John saw the glimpse of someone standing outside of the room. He must be one of Mycroft’s security team, they realized.

As soon as the teas were distributed and the agent went back out, Mycroft apparently read all the files. It was remarkably fast, but Sherlock was the picture of impatience.

“So?” Sherlock asked not being able to wait longer. “What can you tell me about Mark Taylor?”

Mycroft hummed for a moment, calculating all the possible outcomes. He thought Mark Taylor and everything related to him died 15 years ago. Apparently, he was wrong. The connection between four victims was glaring at him, and he has to deal with it. He sighed silently.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock asked impatiently. “Is Mark Taylor dead?”

Mycroft quirked his brow. “You must have seen his current status. Mark Taylor’s dead.” Mycroft couldn’t help but tease him a bit.

Sherlock scowled fiercely. “You know I didn’t ask about that, Mycroft. Who was it? Is he dead?”

Mycroft glanced towards sergeants for a second. Dr. Watson and Inspector’s clearance weren’t issue. Sergeants, though. It was slightly ambiguous, but since this case should be solved by the yard…

Mycroft turned his attention to Sherlock. He tilted his head slightly and smirked. “You would’ve liked that.”

Others’ faces were blank, not following Mycroft’s thoughts. Why would Sherlock wanted this lead to be a dead end? Literally?

But Sherlock understood it perfectly, and shot up from the seat. He pointed an accusatory finger to Mycroft, who only quirked unimpressed eyebrow. “You?! _You_ were Mark Taylor?” Sherlock shouted.

John and Greg felt their jaws hitting the floor. Mycroft was the _spy_?!

Without Mycroft’s answer, though, Sherlock started to mumble things and pacing around his seat. “Of course, the degrees, the time coinciding with your time away-,”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft pulled Sherlock out from his thoughts firmly. “You know why I’m telling you this. The yard should be the one handling this, and that means the inspector needs to know as well. Sit down, I’ll explain.” His tone was stern.

Greg knew Mycroft was going to explain it to them – he wouldn’t have said it in front of them if he wasn’t going to, because Mycroft never does things unintentionally – but he couldn’t help but feel thankful at Mycroft’s attempt to slow Sherlock down.

Sherlock pouted, but sat down anyway. He knows he couldn’t get all the details on deduction alone.

Mycroft gave him a fond smile before addressing all of them. “As I said to Sherlock, yes, I was Mark Taylor, around my graduation. For what purpose, that’s classified,” Mycroft’s smile was polite but it was clear for them to know that they wouldn’t find out.

“But I was known with my cryptography. Some,” Mycroft indicated the folder, which meant the victims, “Sought out my service to find out critical information, and I did with certain payment. And I relayed that information to our government.” Mycroft explained.

Everyone were stunned for a second.

Sherlock, however, narrowed his eyes. “You played with the fire.” If any of his clients suspected him of leaking the information or being the secret agent, Mycroft would have died.

Mycroft shrugged. “The information I handled and the way I handled are classified, of course, but you know me, brother mine. I never do things without calculating the possible outcomes. I had contingency plans, and even then, I had made sure that I don’t report direct information from the codes. Deductions from the clients and finding interrelated information were more than enough. I am quite skilled in that front, as you know, and those information weren’t the primary target anyway. But thank you for your concern.” Mycroft smiled at Sherlock, which only seemed to infuriate him.

So they actually are brothers, Donovan thought, and sighed at seeing Anderson’s jaw being unhinged. It was quite a popular rumor for him to never have heard of it before, but it seems to be the case.

Sherlock was sulking at Mycroft’s words – even though he didn’t refute it – so Greg finally asked the things he wanted to ask.

“So the degrees Mark Taylor has… Math and computer science… You really did get…?” Greg can’t wrap his mind of someone acquiring Doctor’s degree just for a _mission_.

Mycroft lifted his eyebrow slightly, seeing the struggle. “I didn’t whip up the degrees only for the mission. I was already writing the thesis when the mission came to me. So I got those two degrees under Mark Taylor’s name, which was convenient for the mission, and it's not like I didn't have other Doctor's degrees to put under my name. Bachelor’s degree for math is under my name, though. Our mother is a renowned mathematician, after all.”

They just nodded at Mycroft’s explanation. It would be better to just accept that Mycroft Holmes is unparalleled genius than trying to wrap their minds at the concept.

"Why didn't I know?" Sherlock doesn't want to admit that he could have missed it.

Mycroft's eyebrow climbed higher than before. "Because you weren't exactly interested in knowing what I do back then, Sherlock. Think. I was at the end of my graduate school, which puts you in 17 to 18."

Sherlock's mouth formed a silent O. He didn't say anything more, but everyone else thought they might know what they are not talking about. Sherlock must be on the way to his drug habit or already started it.

“Are your former clients looking for a revenge, then?” Sherlock tried to steer the conversation back to the case after a brief silence, and John saw Sherlock's fingers moving restlessly. But John thought that it's related to the prospect of someone aiming for Mycroft, rather than his drug habit being brought up.

But Mycroft shook his head. “No. As I said, I didn’t report back any crucial or direct information from the commissions. No ruffled feathers, or at least, ruffled ones didn’t know who found out the related information. And the death was airtight. Now, few knows of me ever being Mark Taylor, and very few knows that I was recruited before being Mark Taylor. Either way, they are more interested in borrowing me time to time than seeking revenge.”

“So most think that the British Government recruited you because of your work as Mark Taylor and let the name die because of the recruitment? And nobody suspected of you giving the information?” Greg checked. He was pretty sure he understood what Mycroft was saying, but couldn’t understand how that’s possible.

Mycroft inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Let’s say you met up with one of your informant to ask if they know where your suspect is, and later you heard that the yard’s random inspection schedule has been leaked on the street. Would you suspect your informant to be the one spreading the word? Moreover, would you suspect of him acquiring that information from _you_?” Mycroft quirked his eyebrow, emphasizing the word.

Greg could honestly say no. Unless said informant is Sherlock, of course. But even then, he wouldn’t be able to suspect it first. He would just accept the fact if Sherlock tells him he observed it from him. And it was obvious that what Mycroft had derived from the information had been way more complicated than the example.

Donovan and Anderson were watching Mycroft with amazement. So the man more than survived after playing with the fire. He thrived, using his intelligence.

Sherlock huffed. “Yes, yes, I know you are good at connecting dots from the sea of information. Let’s go back to the case, shall we? You are not taking over the case because there couldn’t be a connection between Mark Taylor and the Government. So give us the information to solve it.”

Mycroft smirked at his brother's impatience, but he obliged. “As I said, I am quite certain that it’s not the case of revenge or someone finding out Mark Taylor is alive. The ones who knows the fact doesn’t need these killings to get in contact with me.”

“So what is he after?” Greg asked.

“I did keep a book of clients and the type of codes they needed to solve. Just to keep up the appearance, of course,” Mycroft sent a significant look to Sherlock. They both know that Mycroft doesn’t need books to keep track of those information. “But there was, nonetheless. I made sure it disappears with Mark Taylor’s death, but I can’t think of anything else the suspect could be wanting by killing these people. They weren’t exactly important to my mission.”

“Do you have a suspect?” Greg asked.

“No.” Mycroft answered truthfully. Which Sherlock scoffed at. “Don’t lie, Mycroft. There’s no way you don’t have an idea of the culprit.”

John felt his eyebrow climbing on his forehead. That was the closest case of Sherlock admitting Mycroft being smart.

Mycroft smiled blandly. “It has been 15 years, Sherlock. The people I knew as Mark Taylor would have acted out earlier than this if they needed something from the dead man. I couldn’t of course give you every acquaintance, but I will give you the people who were in the similar position with those four. And I will make you a fake book. It might serve as a bait.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He knows Mycroft, and he knows what he’s not saying. “How much time do I have?” He asked aggressively. He _hates_ Mycroft butting in and showing off that he’s smarter.

“Three days, Sherlock. After that, I have to interfere. Of course, I think you would catch the killer within two days.” Mycroft gave Sherlock his usual smile, which of course Sherlock took it as smugness or arrogant.

Sherlock scowled fiercely at the deadline, but he couldn’t storm out. He still needs Mycroft to give him the list of people and make a book.

Donovan spoke up for the first time. It seemed like Mr. Holmes could find out the killer soon enough according to the exchange, but he wasn’t planjing on participating. “Excuse me, Mr. Holmes. Can I ask why you are not trying to solve the case yourself? I get why secret service can’t take the case, but it seems you alone could solve it?”

Mycroft lifted his eyebrow slightly. “Because, sergeant Donovan, I am not a cop. Or a consulting detective.” He shot Sherlock a deliberately sweet smile. “I have a job that takes up most of my time, and I am relatively certain that you could solve the case before other killing happens. Unless,” He tilted his head in question. “You don’t want to do your job?”

Donovan flushed a little. She didn’t mean it like that. She was just focusing on solving the case as soon as possible without further victim.

“And there’s the fact that he’s too lazy to do the legwork himself.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s in his interest as well to prevent the next killing. It would draw attention to Mark Taylor, and he doesn’t want that. And sadly, he’s bordering on omniscient to be wrong about the timeline.” He grumbled.

“Which, as I say every time, I am not.” Mycroft smiled blandly, deluding his genius with it. Not that it fooled any occupants in the room.

Sherlock huffed. “The names, Mycroft?”

“I know you don’t want to stay any moment longer in here, brother mine. I will send the names by email. The book will be delivered by Anthea.”

As soon as Mycroft is finished, Sherlock shot up. “Great. I assume you already readied the car? Send it now, Mycroft.” With that, Sherlock marched out the door, not waiting for the answer.

Mycroft smiled unapologetically to the rest. “I apologize for my brother’s behavior, even though you must be more than used to it. As I said, the names will be sent to your email, inspector. I will make the book before my meeting with ambassador, and it will be delivered after two hours.”

The rest nodded at that and stood up awkwardly. Now that Sherlock’s gone, they are not as comfortable being here.

Mycroft of course sensed it, and he stood up as well to go first. It will be less awkward to them. “Inspector, Dr. Watson, sergeants.” He inclined his head politely towards them, and left the room after getting answering nods. He is aware of one of his agent following him – since Anthea isn’t here – and the other remaining outside of the door to guide the guests to the car.

He headed to his office, mentally organizing the list he would provide, and sighed. He thought he wouldn’t have to deal with Mark Taylor after all these years. Apparently, he was wrong. But as Sherlock said, his calculations are rarely wrong, and he is quite confident that it would be handled soon.

For that purpose, he sat down on his desk and started to write the list. He – and the cops, without doubt – is thankful that he has an excellent memory.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like 'field agent once upon a time Mycroft', but I also do think that possibility of Mycroft being all athletic and James Bond-ish is small. So, this is my compromise :)  
> I hope you enjoyed it, and kudos and comments appreciated <3


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